The Chicken and Stars Job
by Aoitori
Summary: Essentially a fluffy, H/C-tastic, multi-part tag to the season opener- the Long Way Down Job. Somehow, I just couldn't resist. Not really Eliot/Parker unless you squint. Reviews are love! Yoroshiku ne!
1. Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage, or any of the characters, places, or events contained therein. Which, obviously, is a very good thing.

Note: So honestly, I'm not sure how this one came about. Back when I saw the Long Way Down Job I couldn't stop hoping that somehow Eliot would do...what I've written him doing here in this drabble. Who knows, maybe he did, and we just never found out about it. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, that is exactly what happened. Yes, it's a shamelessly fluffy H/C fic, and no it's not really Eliot/Parker (though squinting is by no means prohibited). So here's the story, in several short, sweet, goofy parts. I hope you enjoy. Yoroshiku ne!

* * *

><p><span>The Chicken and Stars Job (and other stories)<span>

Chapter 1: Five

"He's not back yet?" Parker whined the question that was weighing on most of their minds.

Sophie looked down, mildly uncomfortable, Hardison gave Nate an openly worried look, and Nate gave a small sigh of exasperation.

"I told you Parker:" he said in his trying-to-be-patient voice, "he had some personal business and asked to take a few days."

"But it's been FIVE days." said Parker.

"Girl's got a point. " Hardison joined in, "two or three days- thats a few. Four? Maybe stretching the definition. Five? That's definitely not a 'few' any more. Hell, that's missing-person's-report time."

"Is that what you want to do Hardison? Missing person's?"

"Wha? No! That's just a figure of speech! My point is: Parker's right- it might be time to start worrying."

"I'm not worried." Parker announced matter-of-factly. When she saw the questioning looks the others were giving her she qualified her statement. "I'm impatient."

Hardison blinked.

"What?" she shrugged. "Our next mark has a super classic Glenn-Reeder safe! I reeeeeeeally can't wait to play with it!" Her eyes glinted with excitement and Hardison barely stopped himself from rolling his, instead fixing Nate with a look of frustration.

Nate seemed about ready to jump back into the argument when Sophie intervened.

"Look, how about we table this until after we've finished conferencing with our most recent client who is so _patiently_ waiting on the line?"

Nate picked up after her, "Yeah, and then Hardison, you can begin using your considerable resources to look into Eliot's whereabouts."

Hardison still wore a somewhat strained look, but nodded his agreement.

Nate gave Sophie a grateful glance and then motioned to Hardison, "Go ahead."

Hardison swiped something on his tablet and the face of Karen Scott appeared on the multi-paneled screen.

Tears were clearly visible in her eyes.

"Mrs. Scott, what's the matter?" Nate shifted forward with the question, clearly concerned.

"Oh no, nothing is wrong," she said, voice thick with emotion, "it's just, well, they told me it would be impossible. It was too dangerous in the current conditions and next season would be too late with no way to get a fix on the position and...Mr. Ford...I just can't thank you enough."

The whole Leverage team covertly exchanged confused glances. They had already been through this with her after returning with her husband's final words. None of them were entirely sure what she was talking about now.

"What was supposed to be impossible?" Nate asked carefully.

She frowned and then gave a vaguely guilty look. "I know- it was done anonymously. But you're the only people I know crazy enough to try something like that and skilled enough to stand a chance."

Nate still kept up his neutral mask, trying to pick any useful details out of her explanation.

"Besides," she said conspiratorially, "I recognized your man at base camp."

Nate nodded grimly this time, not liking the mental picture he was starting to form. He noted that the others were either playing along or hadn't made the connection yet.

"In any case, I just wanted to let you all know how much it means to me to be able to take him home and lay him to rest properly."

A lock clattered to the floor and Parker sat bolt upright.

Nate knew he had to close out the conversation fast.

"Well, your husband was a good man. He deserved nothing less. I hope you'll give our best wishes to the rest of the family."

"I will," she said with a tearful nod.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Scott," Nate said, and Hardison cut the connection.

Silence.

Incredulous looks were exchanged around the table.

"Did _anybody_ know about a plan to go back and retrieve Alan Scott's body?" Nate began.

Sophie shook her head solemnly.

Parker stared straight ahead, unresponsive.

Hardison tore his worried gaze away from Parker, "Not even a cyber-whisper," he said, shaking his head as he turned a questioning eye to Eliot.

...

"ELIOT!"


	2. KO

Chapter 2: K.O.

"ELIOT!" came the chorus of voices, and the hitter winced slightly at the sound, looking genuinely annoyed.

Sure enough, he was sitting one seat down from Hardison, looking for all the world as though he had been sitting there the entire time.

Hardison leaned over to hug his friend but Eliot brought a swift and noticeably bandaged finger to bear on the surprised hacker and rasped, "I _will_ end you."

It was the unusual breathiness to the hitter's voice, rather than the threat itself, that made Hardison abort his attempt.

They stared, taking stock of Eliot's sudden appearance.

In addition to bandages that covered one entire hand and several digits of the other, he was also sporting several on at least one side of his face, partially concealed as it was by his hoodie. His lips were cracked and painfully dry-looking and his tongue ran along them periodically as if in a futile effort to keep them hydrated. His posture and demeanor bespoke further and quite possibly more serious injuries that were not yet visibly apparent, and that he would never willingly admit to the group in any case.

He gingerly leaned back down on the table before realizing that the others were still staring at him.

"What?" he asked, irritated, "I just got back. Told y'all I'd be gone several days."

"Several?" Hardison quoted, "Several? Nate told us 'a few,' and 'a few' days were over like the day before yesterday. We thought you were lying dead at the bottom of a river somewhere." The hacker still looked like he wanted to go in for the hug, and Eliot eyed him warily.

"Well, ya thought wrong." He said growled, "Now, stop looking at me like that." He pointedly ignored the fact that Parker was also staring at him- she had barely moved since Mrs. Scott had mentioned her husband.

"Eliot, I have to ask-" Nate said, once again using his most diplomatic tone, "did you have anything to do with what we were just told?"

The hitter didn't quite meet Nate's eyes, but made a slight gesture of innocence. "Don't look at me." He rasped. "I had other problems to deal with."

Nate was silent for a moment, the others were absorbed in watching the interrogation, "So that's not frostbite on your fingers..." he ventured.

"Got bit by a dog."

"On *both* hands...?"

"There were two dogs. Big ones."

"And they got your face, too..."

"They got the jump on me, alright!" Eliot was getting defensive, "I didn't think they'd still be around, damn Russians..." he caught a quizzical stare from Hardison, "...mutts." He finished weakly.

Skeptical glares met him from all directions. Except one.

Parker slowly stood and came to stand beside Eliot. Sensing her intent, the hitter turned stiffly to face her.

"You said we have to make the hard choices." She said slowly.

He nodded.

"You said sometimes we have to do what the others can't."

He grimaced, and nodded again.

"You said we had to leave him!" Her hands were bunched into fists at her sides and unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

"We did, darlin'." His voice was as close to gentle as they'd ever heard it. "We weren't both gonna make it out of there with his body. We did what we had to do to survive and finish the job." He looked down, "But just cause we make the hard choices don't mean we always have to live with them. You were right, Parker." He laid a hand on her arm. "He did deserve to be with his family. And they have you to thank for that."

The edges of Parker's mouth crept up into a tearful smile. Emotional moments were rare for her; she hardly knew what to do. Which is why no one was able to stop her when she suddenly leaned forward and grasped Eliot in a bone-crushing hug.

Several varieties of "Parker- DON'T" echoed in Eliot's ears before he was blinded by the pain and his consciousness winked out of existence.


	3. Rules

Chapter 3: Rules

Lights, sounds, smells, sensations- they were all _different_. Eliot knew this on a purely physical, instinctual level as he surfaced from unconsciousness, and his body reacted of its own accord, jerking forward, ready to face whatever unknown assailant had him in its thrall. Of course his mind was only a split second behind his body and succeeded in aborting the majority of the action as soon as he realized he was among friends.

The smell, that was Sophie's perfume. She'd been leaning down, about to put another pillow under his head.

The touch was a blanket being laid over him by Nate.

The sound was Hardison humming, because he was Hardison and that's just what he did from time to time.

Eliot found he was lying on the office couch, and the three of his teammates who had been tending to him had stepped back hastily as soon as he had moved. It was good to know he had them well trained. Rule #1 about being around an unconscious Eliot: Don't. Rule #2: If breaking Rule #1 is unavoidable, exercise extreme caution. There was no Rule #3. He would have had to mask a faint smile, if not for the grimace that did the job for him. His various aches and pains had awoken with him.

He moved to sit up, not entirely comfortable lying down while the rest of the team stood, but Nate gently restrained him with a hand to the shoulder.

"Eliot, maybe you shouldn't..." he began, but was cut off by a warning look from the hitter.

"'m fine." Eliot intoned meaningfully.

Nate hesitated, but then nodded and released him.

Eliot started to lever himself upright and realized that his confidence might have been premature- with broken ribs protesting violently it was going to be a hard thing to accomplish with any dignity. And then out of nowhere there was a strong hand behind his back, and then another under his arm. Both were positioned perfectly to avoid contact with any of his injuries and both helped him ease up into a sitting position free of pain. When he leaned back into the couch Sophie's pillow was already waiting to support his head.

None of this teammates made any comment, or looked for any acknowledgement, but the "thanks" Eliot muttered gruffly was more heartfelt than he would ever care to admit.

Then Nate swung a chair over and planted himself in front of Eliot, simultaneously dismissing the other two with a significant look and a nod towards the kitchen. The hacker and grifter wandered off in that direction, continuing a debate over the virtues of soup versus tea.

"Is Parker alright?" Eliot asked guiltily, beating Nate to the punch. He still hadn't seen hide nor hair of the little thief since waking up.

Nate grimaced but nodded. "Thinking she'd "broken" you did shake her up a bit, but she'll come around."

Eliot winced a bit at that but Nate continued.

"Frankly, you gave us all a scare," Nate said seriously, "I know we've talked about it before, but you have to keep me updated on any dangerous extra-curricular activities, and at the very least- let me know if you've been injured. Worries aside, I can't plan jobs unless I actually know the status of my team."

Eliot nodded fractionally and locked eyes with his leader. "I'm right there with ya, man, and I swear- I would have done just that. It was just the...unexpected way things went down this time around. The retrieval wouldn't have been that dangerous if those Russians hadn't still been on the mountain, and where I got stranded was above the comms zone...line...thingy. Then I lost my phone somewhere along the way when I was getting down the mountain, and then the gal I had patch me up is really shy about phones, or really any electronics and...yeah..." He saw the mildly horrified look Nate was giving him. "At least I made it back in a few days." He shrugged slightly, "I'm ready for another job, if the security is on the light side."

"Eliot." Nate said flatly. "You just got KOed by a hug."

The hitter cringed visibly at that. "Ok, maybe I could take a day or two to rest first."

"A day or two?"

"Or longer..."

"Aaaand we have a winner." Nate announced.

Eliot just scowled, but Nate was not quite done with him.

"Seriously Eliot- What made you do something that..." he shrugged, "stupid."

Eliot leaned forward haltingly. "Parker." He said. "You didn't see her back in that ice-cave. She wanted _so much_ to do the right thing by bringing that guy back with us. She was ready to risk both our lives because she cared more than she ever had before." He shook his head. "I had to try- for her sake." Then he made a face. "I just hope she doesn't feel like any of this was her fault."

Nate looked up and over Eliot's shoulder, "Well," he said, "why don't you ask her?"


	4. Sneeze

Chapter 4: Sneeze

"Parker?" Eliot said in surprise, twisting around carefully to see the thief standing silently in the corner, staring.

Nate stood up and Eliot looked back at him questioningly.

"Yeah, we're good," the mastermind said, clapping Eliot on the shoulder gently as he walked around the couch. "I'm gonna go see that those two don't burn down the kitchen..." and he disappeared from view.

"Parker, c'mere." Eliot said quietly, motioning towards the empty end of the couch beside him. At first he wasn't sure she was going to comply, but then he saw her stalk over and perch on the arm of the couch, as far away as she could possibly be from him.

"Parker, I'm not gonna bite." he ventured.

"No, but you might _die_ if I sneeze in your direction." she said bitterly.

Eliot rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna die."

She arched an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Very sure." he said with a scowl.

"You're not allowed, you know." She came down a little ways onto the couch, at least sitting on a couch cushion now.

"Allowed to what?"

"Allowed to die." She said it so matter-of-factly Eliot blinked, at a loss. "Hardison would be sad. He likes having a big brother to play with. Nate needs you to...steady him, I think. Sophie...she trusts you, more than she trusts the rests of us for some reason." Parker frowned, as if she didn't quite understand her own observation, then shook her head, blond pony-tale swishing against the couch. "So you're not allowed."

"How about you?" Eliot couldn't help but note the omission.

"What about me?"

"Don't you wanna keep me around for something?

She looked quizzical. "Of course not."

He just stared.

"Cause we're _alike_, right _Sparky_?" She accented that last word with a solid poke to the shoulder.

Though it had actually hurt a bit, Eliot kept the pain off his face as he gave her his usual snarl in return.

"So we don't _need_ each other for anything." She said blithely as she bounced off the couch and then stopped right in front of him.

Then she leaned in and said softly, sincerely, "But you can help me do the right thing any time." And with that she reached around and gave him a feather-light hug. He leaned in and reciprocated, wrapping an arm around her back, pressing the side of his head against hers, and gently mussing her hair with his free hand.

"Thanks, Eliot." she said softly into his ear.

"Any time, sweetheart."


	5. Chicken and Stars

Chapter 5: Chicken and Stars

"Chicken and stars?" Eliot growled. "Seriously Hardison?"

"Now hold on." The hacker said indignantly. "I know we may not be _food snobs_ like yourself, but I think it's safe to say that everybody else here has had enjoyed a nice warm bowl of chicken and stars at some point when they was sick? Am I right people?" The others nodded in agreement- even Parker looked like she was giving the question serious consideration.

"See?" said Hardison, "A doctor _and_ teammate recommended part of the cure."

"Too bad I ain't _sick_." Eliot pointed out with a growl.

"Not sick?" asked Hardison in mock surprise. "The man says he isn't sick. Parker, would you kindly give us an estimate of Eliot's core temperature?"

"With pleasure!" she said smartly with a nasty smile, and planted a hand on the hitter's unsuspecting forehead. "I'm going to go with 99.7 degrees, give or take a tenth."

"How could she possibly...?" Eliot protested.

"Oh, do we need a comparative sampling?" Hardison asked. "Alright, if you would, Miss Parker."

Eliot rolled his eyes at their antics and Parker made the rounds to the rest of the team. "Normal, normal, 99.1," Sophie blushed, " aaaaand normal."

"That's right folks, Eliot Spencer is officially _sick_, which is why he will now be eating chicken and stars." Hardison followed up.

"The temperature is just my body workin' on healing." Eliot griped.

"Which is why you need nourishment. Honestly man, you're not helping your case any. Just man up and eat the damn soup." He placed the deep bowl in Eliot's hands and sat down beside him as the others began to arrange themselves around the room.

"Its not the need for nourishment I have a problem with," Eliot growled, "Its the fact that you consider _this_ nourishment." He nodded at the bowl of gooey stars floating in too-yellow broth. His hands were shaking a bit, so he awkwardly lowered the bowl to his lap.

"Hey man, it's the best we could do on short notice." Hardison defended, "And as it turns out," he looked a little embarrassed, "not a single one of the four of us actually knows how to make real chicken soup."

Eliot looked up from the spoon he was fumbling with and gave Hardison a glare of unequalled loathing. "Y'all are hopeless," he said, as if it were summary judgement on the state of their humanity. He went back to messing with the spoon. "I'm gonna have to teach you, if that's even possible," he said, frustration obvious in his voice. With fingers bandaged, stiff, and sore he was having no luck manipulating the evil utensil. "I'm gonna give you a very detailed shopping list, and tomorrow," the spoon eluded him again and ducked into the goopy broth and Hardison was giving him an unbearably pitying look, "possibly tonight," he went for it with an unbandaged pinky finger, only to submerge it further, "y'all are gonna make more _real_ chicken soup than the five of us can possibly eat in a week!" His last ditch attempt to rotate the bowl and save the spoon only resulted in a small amount of yellow broth spilling down some his bandages and on to the blanket in his lap, "DAMNIT HARDISON!" He grabbed the bowl and shoved it into the hackers hands, looking very nearly about to kill something.

"I...I'm sorry Eliot." Hardison stammered, more than a little horrified at his accidental lack of consideration. "I'll just..."

"Here ya go, Sparky." Parker plopped a large plastic mug in front of the hitter. It was shaped like a cartoon rabbit's head of some sort and it had an enormous straw poking out of it.

Both Eliot and Hardison just sat staring at it blankly, surprise and horror writ large on their faces.

Parker sighed, grabbed the bowl from Hardison and deftly emptied the contents (minus the spoon) into the mug. Just for good measure she took Eliot's better hand and wrapped it around the mug's handle and then fixed him with a dreadfully serious look, "Be nice to Miffy!" She instructed, finger pointing in the face of the astonished hitter, and then she sat down below Hardison at the foot of the couch with a deeply self-satisfied smile.

From a nearby chair Nate watched the proceedings with amusement and mild concern. He wanted to make sure they weren't causing undue stress to their injured teammate. Eliot had chosen, for their sake more than his, to convalesce there at the office for a while instead of retreating to the solitude of his own home. It was good for all of them to feel like they were helping him, as often as he refused assistance at times like this, but Nate was ready to intervene should their ministrations prove to be too taxing. Still, it was hard to gage the hitter's frame of mind, with the amount of grumping and growling that he already did as a matter of course. Nate had nearly intervened with the spoon, only to be thoroughly impressed when Parker came to the rescue.

He watched as Eliot took a few sips through the giant straw and made a face at Hardison along with some choice comments about the flavor. Hardison griped right back and then quickly became absorbed in setting up whatever entertainment he had planned for the evening.

Eliot subtly looked around the room to see that the others weren't watching, then looked at the mug of soup, took a long sip and settled deeper into the couch with a contented smile.

Nate looked away and allowed himself a small smile too.


End file.
